Antiseptic
by mmmslash
Summary: Of bad luck and deep wounds. KioSoubi.


Black cats were bad luck.

Kio was sure of it. Never met one he'd liked. Take Seimei, for example. Always leering, always trying to keep Kio and Soubi apart. Always hurting Soubi, leaving him scarred and bruised and bleeding. Every time Kio got close enough to Soubi to kiss him, or to hold his hand, or to even carry his books for crying out loud, Seimei would show up, his black ears twitching and perked at attention. His black tail – his busy, fox's tail – would swish and those cunning, narrow eyes would watch.

The only time Kio was allowed to be alone with Soubi was on his most bloody days, when he needed care the most. So, Kio would pull himself out of bed at three a.m. and go to the bathroom to retrieve the bandages and antiseptic.

He remembered the first time that Soubi had shown up. It had been sometime before the spell battles had really started, some time after they had first met at the art supply store. Kio had opened his door to find the wide-eyed boy on his doorstep, wrapped in an overlarge coat, the Fighter's body much smaller then. He'd ushered him in and directed him to the couch where it took him several moments to disentangle himself from the coat. He'd lifted all that long hair from his neck and Kio had stared.

Wrapped around his friend's neck like barbed wire, like a keep-off-the-grass sign, like a prison fence, was a scar, some sort of branding. Kio had been appalled and outraged. It was the first time that Soubi had allowed himself to be embraced.

"Did Seimei do this," Kio had asked, Soubi's head in his lap, Kio gently dragging his fingers through his friend's hair.

Soubi had shaken his head. He'd explained that he would have gone to Seimei about the appearance of this new marking, but he was afraid to find out that they didn't share the same name.

"What if his hasn't shown up yet," Soubi had asked, the only time Kio had heard his friend's voice sound weak.

And Kio, because he'd wanted to be the friend that Seimei wouldn't be, had simply sighed and reassured Soubi.

"Don't be silly, Sou-chan," he'd crooned and leaned over to kiss the shell of his ear, "of course he'd have the same name."

Soubi had fallen quiet then, letting Kio pet him for a while in silence. Later that night, it would be Kio's idea (albeit grudgingly) to wrap clean, white bandages around Soubi's long beautiful neck. Kio was hesitant because he would often stare at that neck while they painted together, wondering what it tasted like. But it was nice to have that lying name covered up.

Soubi had been skeptical about the bandages, but Kio had told him to think of it as a fashion statement, and Soubi had smiled. Soubi had always liked being different, especially if it was "differently fashionable." And Kio didn't mind indulging that, especially if it meant that his friend was smiling so enticingly again. It was a bittersweet pleasure to lift Soubi's hair off his neck and clip it up into a twist as he wrapped him in bandages.

Afterward, Soubi had lain in bed with Kio, head on his shoulder, and they had slept until morning. The next afternoon, Soubi had shown up with Seimei to show off their matching brands. Seimei's eyes had glinted at Kio and his black ears had stood up in a show of dominance.

Bad luck. Bad luck for Kio. Bad luck for Soubi, especially when Soubi was stretched out shirtless on Kio's floor, and Kio swabbed antiseptic into the gashes on his back. Sometimes, they looked like knife slashes (Kio assumed from the spell battles, but wasn't Seimei supposed to be the one to take the brunt of the violence?); other times, they looked suspiciously like claw marks, but Kio said nothing. He'd resolved that when he took Soubi's ears (and he knew it to be only a matter of time), he wouldn't hurt his friend like that, even if Soubi liked that sort of thing. He hurt Soubi enough when he cleaned his wounds, Soubi's hisses cutting through the thick silence between them.

Always, after Kio had swabbed him clean, Soubi would nestle between Kio's bent knees and rest back against his chest. Kio knew these to be Soubi's moments of weakness, the times when the black-cat bad luck became too heavy and Kio was more than happy to support Soubi until his legs could hold him again.

Soubi was a bit more agreeable each time, at first only allowing Kio to rest his hands at the bends of his elbows. Later, he let his friend slide his arms around his chest, then he let Kio kiss the top of his head, then his neck. Eventually, he let Kio's mouth work over his chest, down his torso, and into his lap.

Kio possessed the skill to pull down a zipper using only his teeth, to seduce with the smallest of gestures, but he didn't use these with Soubi. With Soubi, his dearest friend, Kio remained gentle and accommodating, licking and nibbling only in ways that made Soubi moan approvingly.

Eventually, Soubi needed comfort beyond what small touches and kisses and swoops of the tongue could offer. After one particularly brutal battle, after Kio had cleaned his wounds (wounds that Seimei should have been cleaning), Soubi let Kio undress him the rest of the way. Kio had removed his own clothing slowly, offering time between each discarded article for Soubi to express regret. But no rejection came after bared chest, crumpled jeans, or socks being slid off feet. So, cautiously still, Kio had followed Soubi to the bed and slid between the sheets.

For a stretch of time that seemed simultaneously endless and far too short, nothing existed but the gentle connection of bodies. There were no spell battles, no injuries, no black-cat bad luck to intervene. There were only tangled limbs, tangled sheets, and moans twisting together in the dark. Kio realized, as Soubi's hands dug into his shoulders as if Kio was going to disappear at any moment, that some wounds were too deep to be relieved with peroxide and bandages. And Kio had never felt anything as healing as Soubi's body around him.

The stretch between their first lovemaking and the next time he saw Soubi was excruciating. Kio needed to feel him, to taste him, to see what he looked like without his toffee-colored ears.

When his friend did show up, he'd slipped out of Kio's eager embrace. He didn't need a companion, he'd said, he needed a nurse again. When Kio had returned with the antiseptic, Soubi's bared chest revealed a new wound, one that Kio was certain had not come from a stray spell in battle. Written - burned - into his friend's smooth chest was another brand, one that matched the mark around Soubi's neck.

"Sou-chan," Kio had asked, "two? What does it mean?"

Soubi had frowned at him. "It means," he said, "that Seimei doesn't like your smell on me."

Seimei had disappeared and Kio had been relieved.

Then Soubi had brought home this new black cat, this new bearer of bad luck. But this new Aoyagi brat didn't leer like the older one. Instead, he stared off into the distance in this vague, melancholy way. Ritsuka didn't monopolize Soubi's time. Rather, he seemed rather content to shove Soubi off into Kio's hands at every opportunity. Kio had to smirk at the way Ritsuka would get pouty and tell Soubi that he didn't want to see him today.

"What's this one's name," Kio had asked in a reserved, cranky sort of way.

"Loveless," Soubi had responded.

Kio blinked twice and frowned. Suddenly, that distant look in the kid's eyes made a lot more sense. Kio could relate.

Kio wasn't quite ready to revise his opinion on black cats yet, but as he watched Ritsuka crouch between Soubi's legs, a bottle of antiseptic in his hands while Soubi's eyes slid shut as his deep wounds were cleansed, Kio thought that perhaps someday he could be persuaded to change his mind. 


End file.
